


All I Want is You (and You, and You)

by HardNoctLife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Multi, OT4, One Shot, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: “This is an intervention,” Noctis repeats, stepping in front of Gladio and Ignis.“Wait—what?” Prompto looks around, not that there is anyone else they could be talking to, but he checks the apartment just to be sure. “An intervention for me?” He points back at himself, bewildered, and it earns him three perfectly timed nods of affirmation.“Yep, you,” Gladio agrees.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 16
Kudos: 127





	All I Want is You (and You, and You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justicesrequiem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justicesrequiem/gifts).



“This is an intervention.”

Prompto looks up from where he is bent over the coffee table in Ignis’s living room to find three pairs of eyes staring back at him with varying intensity. He notices Gladio first. He’s the biggest, after all, and the most intimidating of Prompto’s friends, and he’s flanked on either side by Noctis and Ignis. Ignis is not to be discounted. He may _look_ nice and sweet, but the advisor’s mood can flip like a switch, one moment kind and accommodating, the next—well, _set phasers to kill_. That leaves Noctis, Prompto’s best friend and the Prince of Insomnia, although Prompto usually forgets the latter. He’s hardly ever what one might consider threatening, unless it concerns someone he loves, and Prompto is _definitely_ getting threatening vibes from his number one pal.

“Hi guys,” Prompto says weakly, setting aside the pen in his hand to stretch his arms overhead. Something pops in his back, causing a pleasant discomfort that reminds him he’s been sitting for too long.

“This is an intervention,” Noctis repeats, stepping in front of Gladio and Ignis. They all have their arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in disapproval, and it gives the impression that Prompto is like a puppy that chewed up the carpet and is about to get a stern talking-to.

“Wait—what?” Prompto looks around, not that there is anyone else they could be talking to, but he checks the apartment just to be sure. “An intervention for _me_?” He points back at himself, bewildered, and it earns him three perfectly timed nods of affirmation.

“Yep, you,” Gladio agrees.

“What did I do?” the blond wonders as Gladio, Ignis, and Noctis come to sit on either side of him on the couch, effectively blocking him from leaving. Prompto gulps as he tries to think of what he could have possibly done to earn their irritation, but his mind blanks.

Solemnly, Ignis places a hand on Prompto’s shoulder and squeezes, somehow finding the one knot in the muscle there and making Prompto wince. “You have been far too busy for our liking,” Ignis announces.

Prompto nods slowly as if he understands, but his face reflects his confusion. Noctis sighs heavily, rolling his eyes. “Prom, do you even know what day it is?” Noctis asks. The way he says it implies Prompto _should_ know, and that it is, in fact, _very_ important, but Prompto has no clue, and rather than guessing, just shrugs.

“Uh, Friday?”

Three eyes stare, blinking in tandem after a long moment. Ignis and Gladio exchange a look and Noctis sighs again, head lolling back in disbelief. “Dude, it’s _your_ birthday.”

Prompto gapes. “What? No way! It’s not until…” He stops abruptly, looking between his friends. Their eyebrows are raised, waiting for him to work it out on his own. When he does, Prompto buries his face in his hands to hide his flush of embarrassment. “Today?” he squeaks.

“Yep,” Gladio agrees, leaning back into the couch cushions matter-of-factly. “We kept trying to plan something this week, but you were always busy,” he goes on to say.

“Hard to arrange a birthday party when the guest of honor cannot attend,” Ignis adds dryly.

“What have you been working so hard on anyway?” Noctis asks, crossing his legs as he bumps his shoulder into Prompto’s.

Prompto runs a hand through his hair, immediately flustered. “My photography portfolio for class. It’s due on Monday and—”

“Monday,” Ignis interrupts, standing to collect the mess of materials scattered across the coffee table. There is silence as he stacks everything neatly before tucking it under one arm. “Then perhaps it can wait until tomorrow, or Sunday, even?”

It’s a question, but it’s not _really_ a question. Prompto tries to find sympathy in Gladio and Noctis’s eyes and comes up empty before sullenly turning back to Ignis. “…yeah,” he finally concedes. It dawns on him then that _this_ is why Ignis picked him up from his dorm room, insisting that he needed a change of scenery.

“Stop thinking about school for two seconds,” Noctis says, adding in a head-tilt and small smile for good measure.

“Alright, alright,” Prompto finally laughs, throwing his hands up as if in surrender. He is met with relieved looks, and Gladio claps him on the back, obviously pleased. “So, uh, what’s the plan?”

“You have two options,” Ignis starts to say as he tucks Prompto’s work carefully away on a nearby shelf. “We can either take you out for a night on the town, what with it being your twentieth birthday, or—” Ignis slides back onto the couch, occupying the space next to Gladio. “—we can stay in.”

There is a subtle implication to the second option, and Prompto buries his head into Noctis’s neck, inhaling the faded scent of the prince’s aftershave. It’s hard to put into words how it makes him feel to suddenly have three different sets of hands touching him—Ignis lets one rest on Prompto’s shoulder, gentle and unassuming. Gladio, bold and sure, grips Prompto’s arm, just tight enough that it sends shivers down the blond’s spine. And Noctis? _Noctis_ wriggles a single finger into Prompto’s palm, more of a question in need of an answer.

It’s too much, and at the same time, not enough.

How does one tell the world about the bond that they all share? Prompto thinks it’s impossible. _We’re best friends—and a little more than that._ He knows that even attempting to explain it would earn him disapproving looks and sideways glances.

 _It’s not natural_ , one might say, but to Prompto it feels as natural as breathing. _I’ve found where I belong, even if I haven’t quite gotten the hang of where I fit in just yet._ Prompto knows that even if he lived a thousand lifetimes, he’d never find anything else like it.

“I’d like that,” Prompto murmurs. His lips curl up against Noctis’s skin, the prince’s steady pulse humming against them.

“Like _what_?” Noctis laughs, and it vibrates through Prompto’s body, soothing and comfortable.

Prompto can’t help but laugh too. “This, all of this.” He sits back against the bottom of the couch and feels Ignis and Gladio both draw closer, legs on either side of him. Noctis is quiet for a moment, and Prompto can practically hear him thinking.

“So…staying in?” the prince guesses, unsure.

“Yeah,” Prompto chuckles, then, very quickly, he leans in to kiss Noctis’s cheek, butterflies materializing in the pit of his stomach. Noctis looks surprised at first, but he doesn’t pull away, instead choosing to lace his fingers with Prompto’s. “I mean, if that’s cool with you guys—”

“Of course,” Ignis says, firmly and quickly.

“This is about what _you_ want,” Gladio confirms.

Prompto thinks about it, and he thinks about it some more, all the while sinking into the warmth of the three bodies that now surround him, tight muscles unwinding and nerves smoothing. “Take out and TV is fine. I’m an easy guy to please.”

“Easy, huh?” Noctis nudges Prompto with a grin. There is a chorus of chuckles from Ignis and Gladio.

“Not _that_ easy, otherwise we wouldn’t have had to plan a strategic attack,” Ignis comments, to which Prompto blinks.

Gladio adds his two cents as he gets to his feet. “You could stand to be a little easier, I think is what they’re trying to say.”

“Mm,” comes the murmured agreement from Ignis as he joins the prince’s Shield, the two gravitating towards the kitchen. Noctis turns on the TV as the others begin to debate food, and Prompto sits back to take it all in, letting their words waft over and around him, a melody that is quickly becoming his favorite tune.

“Fish?”

Gladio quickly shoots down Ignis’s first suggestion with one of his own. “What about the noodle shop around the corner?”

“We just had noodles yesterday,” Noctis points out as he finds a movie on TV—some old Duscaean film where the hero is a rancher who rides a white chocobo and wears an outfit entirely of leather. The villain, of course, rides a black chocobo. “This one?”

“Sure,” Prompto confirms. If he is being honest, it doesn’t matter to him what they watch so long as they are all together.

“What about burgers?” Noctis calls back.

There is a huff of protest from Ignis. “Too greasy. You need to widen your horizons, Noct.”

“How about that Altissian style pizza place that just opened up? I heard it’s pretty good,” Prompto finally voices his own suggestion and hopes for the best.

“Hm, that could work.” Ignis is already pulling up the restaurant on his phone to look through their menu.

“Cheese and bread? Count me in,” Noctis quips. As an aside, he whispers to Prompto: "He doesn't complain it's greasy when _you_ suggest it."

“I’ll eat anything,” says Gladio before returning to the couch. “Specs, I trust you to make good choices,” he adds.

“Oh, _now_ you trust me,” Ignis mutters. With the decision apparently made and in Ignis’s capable hands, the rest of them get comfortable on the couch, Prompto’s assignment now completely forgotten. It takes some maneuvering to get all of them to fit, arms and legs intertwining, heads bumping against shoulders and chests, but eventually they make it work. Ignis, after completing their order quickly and efficiently, somehow manages to slip into whatever remaining space there is, an arm snaking around Prompto’s waist.

“You’re certain this is good enough for you? It’s absolutely no trouble if you want more,” Ignis explains, eyeing Prompto doubtfully. He _knows_ that Prompto ‘doesn’t like to be a bother’ and is often awkward when he’s the center of attention, but for once, Prompto doesn’t blush or look away when his desires are brought into question.

“No, Iggy— _guys_ —this is…” Prompto cranes his neck, making sure he’s able to look at Gladio and Noctis too. “…it’s perfect.”

There’s the feeling of soft lips against Prompto’s forehead, Ignis scooting in to close the remaining distance between them, and more shifting as Gladio encircles the three of them in his strong arms.

“Yeah, well, just wait until you see the cake Specs made,” Noctis says with a grin.

Four laughs layer together, an unlikely harmony, and Prompto squeezes his eyes shut, taking a mental picture of the moment to keep forever.

“Aw, man, I can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> I respond to all comments. Feel free to yell at me on Tumblr or Twitter, hard-noct-life and @HardNoctLife respectively.


End file.
